To All Of Our Shame

The way we treat the Earth that feeds us is to all of our shame

The future generations of people for their poverty will have us to blame

For the droughts that bring famines where many will die

What we do to Mother Earth to our own selves we do is not a lie

The politicians we elect to govern us to parliament on election day

Of  the sort of people we are more than words can of us does say

We elect mostly people for the Planet that feeds us who only seem to care

On promotiong the people who abuse Mother Earth for her resources to become a billionaire

More carbon dioxide emissions when more trees are cut down

To build more factories for carbon emmitting jobs on the industrial side of the town

We cause droughts that brings famines due to global warming when we harm the one to live on we depend

Us humans to our Earth Mother were never a friend

The children of the future for our mistakes will pay

And this seems a rather sad thing for to say.

The Local Voice For Wildlife

As the local voice for wildlife she does lead the way

On the protection of endangered animals and birds she has a lot to say

To the creatures of Nature she is quite a good friend

Their right to their existence she vigourously defend

To protect habitat for wildlife she tries her outmost best

She is the leading spokesperson at every local pro-environment protest

She writes to the politicians and newspapers as a voice for Nature's creatures she is well known

And on any debates on Climate Change she always holds her own

In her early sixties by good example she does lead

Her letters to the newspapers always makes for a good read

To the local wealthy developers the number one foe

That she has successfully led the protests against some local develpoments does happen to be so

As the voice for endangered wildlife of her one can only say

That in defence of Nature's creatures a huge part she does play.

After The Floods

On the trees of East Gippsland above the water logged land after the flooding spiders webs do abound

Built by spiders who fled the rising flood waters from their homes on the ground

Glimmering in the sunshine after rain quite a beautiful sight

A display of Nature's beauty in the Winter sunlight

Ground spiders are vulnerable to predators without ground cover in to hide

But they will return to their ground homes when the ground dries out after the flood waters subside

Where no trees are ground spiders in their billions do drown

Tree removal to some of Nature's life forms can be a let down

In parts of East Gippsland where there are many trees

Billions of spiders webs shimmering in the breeze

Nature at her most beautiful one does not pay to see

Some of the best things in life to view are free

After the floods on low trees gleaming in the sunlight

To the beholder quite a beautiful sight.

Nomads

The nomads to any  one place do not belong

The yearn for the wander in them remains strong

Even to the place they were born and raised in few of them ever return

And even into old age the flame of the wander in their minds does burn

The nomads from their birthplace travel far away

In any one place they do not wish to stay

They quickly weary of one town and one countryside

Their travels do take them to places far and wide

The lure of the wander took them far away

From where they first looked on the bright lamp of day

They live for to travel new places to see

Of the ties that bind they do live free

Nomads can be of any creed or race

They are people who do not have a sense of place.

Happens To Be True

You are a good person in your own kind way

Though not everyone of you nice things do say

The one with many friends is not without foes

A truism of life one does have to suppose

One of the nicest people on your side of the town

Yet there are a few who verbally put you down

Those without an enemy are of the few

And this is not saying anything that is new

You may well win many but not everyone

Always a few who will knock you when all is said and done

Even the town's most popular people not everyone admire

And to be like them do not feel any desire

Those without friends are not without enemies happens to be true

Whoever first said this some credit is due.

Of Nature We Learn

To those who do love her such joy she does bring

And her praises they always feel happy to sing

Of Nature we learn something new every day

Her wonders are many in truth one can say

Us humans are as much a part of her as the birds and the bees

As all life forms of water and land and the flowers and the trees

To her and to Mother Earth us humans belong

Though many will tell you such thinking is wrong

Whether we are buried or cremated and to ashes burn

In some form or other to Earth we return

The Goddess of Mother Earth Nature is her name

To be the World's number one super power is her claim to fame

So much about her remains as unknown

Nature the one with ways of her own.

The Power To Do Good

The power to do good always comes from within

You can make the World better to live in

Not only for youirself but for others too

For a better World to live in one of the sources is you

Those who perform at least one good deed every day

And on helping those in need of help often go out of their way

Are people who are not that hard to admire

And of singing their praises it does seem hard to tire

They may not be the heroines or the heroes on their side of the town

Since one does not often hear of any honours for those who help the financially down

Yet in their helping them they perform a selfless thing

And some happiness to their lives does bring

The power to do good it lives in your mind

Every town's unsung heroines or heroes are the compassionate and kind.

She Said To Me

She said to me you write some terrible stuff

For years you have been a low brow rhyming buff

I can tell by your words you are not a nice man

Of my sort of rhyming she was not a fan

A highly respected poetess of the town

At her dismissal of my rhyming i felt a bit down

With her i did not argue though in her words she was not nice to me

In life you win some and lose some is how it seems to be

One i do not know well or often meet

Her words not encouraging though i copped it sweet

Five decades ago the young town rose

Time has made her bitter one has to suppose

In me and my rhyming she did have her say

I took it all in and went on my way.

The Pigeon Holers

For those out of work and those on low wages and those on the dole

The judgmental of the town have a pigeon hole

The people who help to uphold the social divide

Their sort in every village and city and town Worldwide

Into comparing people in quite a big way

For themselves they always have too much to say

In their words disrespectful to the financially down

Their title the pigeon holers of the town

The judgmental for their judgments never receive any pay

They enjoy being negative it does seem this way

No shortage of their sort in the World of today

And this seems a sad thing for to have to say

They dismiss the poor people in life doing it tough

As those in the pigeon hole of the not good enough.

I Have Grown Tired

I have grown tired of  men who love talking of sports especially car racing  and their favourite codes of football

In their interests they do not rise above the ordinary at all

And if not talking of sports they love talking  of their successful careers and their children and beautiful partners and wives

Cannot say i envy them their unadventurous lives

On their side of the town to many well liked and well known

And referred to with the title of one of our own

Not different to the majority of them one can say

And so many like them one does meet every day

To make up humanity it takes all kinds one suppose

And of people like them with similar interests there are many of those

They are outsiders those who think differently from the majority in every town

Though local themselves they will never even know of local renown

I have grown tired of those into sports and other forms of entertainment in a big way

No shortage of their sort i meet them every day.

Cattle Egrets

Nomadic birds they travel far in the big country

And it is mostly where cattle are them you will see

From the grazing herds never far away

In coastal south west Victoria in Winter one sees them almost every day

White birds known as cattle egrets which for them seems an apt name

Since they like to spend their days with cattle their claim to bird fame

The life forms  the cattle disturb when grazing the white birds do eat

To them frogs and insects are a tasty treat

In a flimsy nest of sticks above a shallow lake on a high bush or small tree

The female lay white eggs of one, two, five, four or three

All of the chicks to adulthood do not survive

In Nature the weak often known to die for the strong to thrive

Some of the small life forms they devour fleeing the big trampling feet

Harmful to the land but to the egrets taste sweet

That they are friends of their fields most farmers agree

And with their grazing herds them are happy to see

To coastal south west Victoria they arrive in late May

And eat mostly insects the grazing herds disturb every day

Cattle egrets by Nature and cattle egrets by name

To associate with cattle is their claim to fame.

Those We Elect To Parliament

Those we elect to parliament of us more does say

Than anything else does it does seem this way

And most of them not good people not compassionate and kind

To the hardships endured by many of their constituents many of them mentally blind 

And yet they receive for representing us a very good pay

In parliamentary sittings they spend most of their time insulting each other every day

That they are our reflective mirrors to say the least sad

Though they tell us for our democratic right to vote that we ought to feel glad

Those we elect to represent us in parliament so few of them for us does care

And of the needs of Mother Earth who feeds us seem mentally unaware

Yet what we do to her to our own selves we do

This is how i does see it whatever about you

Of the enemies of Mother Earth it can truly be said

That we do not condemn them we vote them into parliament to represent us instead.

I Only Have Memories

 I only have memories of what used to be

Of faces and places i may never more see

Where i was known to many in the long ago

Long before time it did become my foe

In Duhallow just west of the Town of Millstreet

In the green countryside where the waterways meet

Where i would be a stranger to many today

That time with it brings changes does seem true to say

Old memories live in me as a source for joy

Of where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy

Memories of Claraghatlea where my life's journey began

Where i lived for many years and grew into a man

And the old fields i loved and may never walk on again

Only visual memories now with me remain.

The Pied Currawong

Birds of  eastern Australia's wooded countryside

From the tip of Cape York through eastern Queensland, New South Wales and Victoria  they are known far and wide

Crow sized black birds with white on the wings and tail and bright yellow eyes

They are not popular with orchardists and gardeners and farmers which is not a surprise

Since they eat orchard fruits and spread cacti in their droppings in the seeds of prickly pear

Among country people their friends are quite rare

They eat eggs and nestlings of small birds they have an omnivorous diet

And are known to eat a baby bird in a single bite

In flat nest of sticks lined with soft material on high branch of tree

The female lay pink spotted brown eggs of mostly three

To sound rather melodious their one claim to fame

And their kurrawong sounding song gives rise to their name

Once seen and once heard you will never again get them wrong

They are unmistakeable the pied currawong.

Those With Grace Who Do Lose

 You may have been found to be wanting in your great test

But someone always lose and you did try your best

You congratulated the winner and did  lose with grace

And accepted defeat with a smile on your face

You did not make excuses and of the winner did say

That the better person did win on the day

Though it was for the winner the applause was loud

In defeat you did win admirers and you done yourself proud

The desire to do better in you is within

The next time you compete you will go all out to win

You are just one of those people who loves to compete

And today you admit one better you did meet

And though losing is a thing anyone does not choose

They do win some friends those with grace who do lose

They Have The Humility In Them

You are not being very clever or not very wise

If you have so much to learn you do not realize

The words of a wise one worthy of recall

Those who think they know everything know little at all

We learn as we live something new every day

Our learning did not end on leaving school in truth one can say

It is said about Einstein that he was the dunce of the school

And he turned out to be nobody's fool

The most knowledgeable person may not be the wealthiest in the town

And may not even enjoy the status of local renown

Yet she or he have in them the gift to discern

That they do know little and have heaps to learn

They have the humility in them to realize

That learning to more knowledge always gives rise.

Long Billed Corellas

 In their small range birds of the rural town parks and the countryside

Long billed corellas do not live Australia wide

Large white parrots with long hooked bills and red under throat and around their eyes

In large flocks they can be quite noisy at sunset and sunrise

With their long bills they dig for bulbs on the ground

And in large noisy flocks they do abound

Since they damage rural town parks where cricket and football is played

Due to their digging many enemies among fans and players by them has been made

In a cavity high in a eucalypt tree

The female lay white eggs of two or three

Perhaps due to their small range they are not widely known

But they are interesting birds with ways of their own

They can be rather noisy at sunset and sunrise

And once seen and once heard them again you will recognize.

In Those With A Dream

 Most do have their own dreams in life to pursue

Though so few ever do see their dreams come true

In the one without a dream hope is all but dead

They have little to live for in the years ahead

You are going through a bad time life on you is tough

But you have a home to live in and you are not sleeping rough

There are many who are doing it tougher than you

A home to live in should be everyone's due

It is tough on people like you who are financially down

But you have your dreams of great wealth and renown

To give you some hope in your times of  need

That you do have a dream you are lucky indeed

So dream on of better times of you ahead

In those with a dream hope is not dead.

John O' Mahony

 Going back the years more than five decades in time

John O' Mahony left Inchileigh near his physical prime

To try out his luck in the big World out there

One of the migrants from Millstreet who became a success story elsewhere

A grandfather he lived in Harrow in Middlesex with Bea his wife

Far from Clara mountain he lived the last days of his life

In his early to mid seventies one worthy of parting tears

Far from Duhallow he lived his best years

His late dad Denis and now his brother Jerry to Clara Mountain had and have the deed

But to climb on the old hill permission from Jerry you do not need

Since the Mahonys as ever are generous with the sharing of their land

And permission to climb Clara of anyone never demand

 

John O' Mahony often climbed Clara Mountain as a boy

And doubtless to view the green countryside from the high ground he did enjoy

And though good memories of the past in the migrant remain

Sadly John O' Mahony will never climb on Clara again

We are born to mortality in truth one can say

And for all of us there is a last night night and day

And though the last breath of life from John O' Mahony has gone

In all who knew and knew of him good memories of him will live on.

It Is True Only

 It is true only one can be the best

And many found to be wanting when put to the test 

To the winner goes all of the glory and fame

And the loser does become the forgotten name

And since winning does raise one's public and self esteem

This is the reason everyone wants to win it does seem

Worldwide people compete for to win every day

This is how it is and it was always this way

In every village, town and city Worldwide people with each other compete

And there are far more losers than winners in every street

But sadly for the kind and compassionate there is never a prize

Though in their good deeds far above the ordinary they rise

And those looked on as winners though as people not great

Are the people the majority wish to celebrate.

We Learn As We Live

 We learn as we live something new every day

And for our every mistake always some price to pay

And the older we get the more we come to realize

That in retrospect it is easy to be wise

And from our mistakes of the past we only can learn

Life's experiences give us the power to discern

The words of a wise person worthy of recall

That life is the greatest teacher of them all

Of lessons to us life has many to give

We do learn from her for as long as we live

Yes we never stop learning until the day we do die

Those who do tell you differently believe their own lie

Those open to learning every day learn something new

For the lessons of life are not of the few.

That We Receive From Life

 That we receive from life what is only our due

In some instances only happens to be true

There is some truth in this none ought to deny

But to so many people this does not apply

In a human World where for one to win big many have to lose

Losing is a thing anyone does not choose

And sadly so many are tagged with the loser name

In a World where so many are obsessed with money and fame

Common sense it does seem suggests luck does decide

More so than life's who is successful or not in Countries Worldwide

And luck as is said always does come by chance

Most of those born into poverty of success stand little chance

The homeless and hungry on the poor side of the town

Will more than likely live their lives as financially down

In a Human World where losers are many and big winners are few

And this is not saying anything that is new

The Pheasant's Nest

Good memories live on and never fade away

The mental images are with me today

Of a sunny day in June in a meadow as a patch of rushes i walked by

A mottled grey female pheasant up from the rushes did fly

On the spot where she flew from her nest i found

With her ten olive eggs in it on a scrape in the ground

A thing of natural beauty that brought so much joy

And would live for his lifetime in a twelve year old boy 

I did not touch her eggs and left well enough be

And my chance discovery remained a secret to me

If i told anyone i feared they might rob her nest

And to keep it to myself did seem for the best

A memory from six decades and three years ago

And to the boy of the nineteen fifties time has become the foe.

Where The Cails Water Flow

 Among the rank rushes the cock pheasant crow

Today in the fields where the Cails water flow

Nearby one of the females he has mated with on her large clutch of olive eggs does lay

Though no part in family matters apart from mating he does play

Wafting in the warm breeze of a sunny June day

The sweet scent of freshly mowed grass for silage or hay

On what is a beautiful time of the year

The voice of the cuckoo so pleasant to hear

With the sun on their dark wings chirping as they fly

The swallows are chasing flying insects in the sky

On through the green fields of Annagloor, Shannaknock and Liscreagh

The Cails to the Finnow ever babbles it's way

And the dark brown water bird dipper of breast white as snow

Does sing on the bank of where the Cails water flow.

From A Similar Seed

Us humans all originated from a similar seed

And there is good and bad in every race and creed 

That there is no such a thing as a superior race only true to say

To be flawed is to be human it does seem this way

Nationalism, patriotism and racism seem to interrelate

And among races only problems seem to create

There are good people of every nationality and race of black, white and brown

Worldwide in every village and city and town

You will know who your friend is when of help you are in need

And this person to you may not be of similar race or creed

Kindness and compassion to any one race does not belong

Those who will tell you different have got it all wrong

Us humans all come from a similar seed

And red is the blood we do shed when we bleed.

Unearned Privilege

 The monarch became monarch only by chance

Only through the luck of  birth circumstance

An unearned privilege that is handed down

To the first child of  the one who wears the crown

Privilege by birth is unearned in truth one can say

Suppose in a fair Human World it would not be this way

But this is how it is and how it always will be

Doubtless the side effects of inequality

The child of paupers the monarch's crown will never wear

This is something that everyone of is aware

Due to circumstance of birth people are born into poverty

Of hunger and homelessness and statelessness poor people will never be free

The monarch became monarch due to birth circumstance

This surely is privilege that does come by chance.

One Reason

One reason that i am not financially well off that is obviously clear

Is that i have been writing rhyme for many a year

Without the reward of any money for pay

And that money does give one status only true to say

I am one of those addicted to penning of rhyme

Something i have been doing since my physical prime

And this is going back many Seasons in time

I would be in prison if this is a crime

I used to love reading rhymes as a young boy

And nowadays writing them i thoroughly enjoy

The rhymes that come to me in notebook i pen down

Just for the love of doing it not for money and literary renown

Penning rhyme is a thing i could not give away

And i just add to my numbers of them every day.

Of Nature

 Of Nature i learn something new every day

She is a great teacher in truth one can say

And though my wonderment of her only does grow

So little about her i can claim of to know

Due to human created carbon emissions many of  Nature's creatures on the endangered list

Yet in our bad environmental practices we do persist

For mass extinction of species of wildlife we have been planting the seed

In the plundering of Mother Earth's resources due to our human greed

To the first silent Spring we well may be near

Future generations of people a song bird may not hear

In our human environmental practices nothing to celebrate

A World without wildlife a sad thing to contemplate

But Nature the creator of Mother Earth's beauty will be living on

When life from the last human being it has gone.

A Great Person

For her there is not any need for to pray

For if there is a post bodily death heaven her soul is there today 

She lived as a great person in truth one can say

And to help others often went out of her way

One of the unsung of her side of the town

She often did help the financially down

To many poor people she was a good friend

And sad to learn her life has come to an end

Of good deeds in her life she done more than her share

Selfless people like her to say the least rare

Her mission in life was sowing Karma's good seed

She helped many people of helping in need

In the local cemetery her last remains lay

If there is a heaven her soul is there today.

A June Day In The Far South

 A bright day in June in this far southern place in this Land of the south

Intermittently the sun in a break in the clouds does shine out

For Winter one can say a nice enough day

Though the morning was cold and the grass with frost gray

Yesterday it was quite windy with rain

And the forecast for tomorrow wet and windy again

With the warmer days of Spring yet not anywhere near

Perhaps this is typical weather for the time of year

In the far south of the southern Land sunny hours in June are few

And this is not saying anything that is new

Near the depths of Winter when few birds do sing

Ten weeks from the southern calendar Spring

For the time of year quite a pleasant day

But the weather forecast for tomorrow has more rain on the way.

I Was Not There

 I was not there the day Jesus walked on the waves of Galilee

But blessed are the billions who believe he did though they were not there to see

The son of god walk upon water they are far greater than me

Since i am one who choose to question all of unwritten history

I was baptized as a christian but i am not a christian today

In fact i do not have a religion to any god i do not pray

Some religious people lead good lives though some as is said is not all

And some who were looked on with reverence from grace have been known for to fall

Bad crimes for god have been committed but for this god is not to blame

For criminals they are not godlike and in their crimes bring on themselves shame

But one should not blame the good religious people for the crimes of the horrible few

Than being religious can make you a better person is not saying anything that is new

No i was not there the day Jesus walked on the waves of Galilee

But blessed are those who were not there and believe what they did not see.

One Of The Lucky

 In life i have been lucky at night i sleep in a comfortable bed

So many do sleep in the open or in a drafty old shed

I do not know what it feels like to be hungry in a World where some often do not eat every day

Though i may not be wealthy and famous life always does treat me okay

I could have been born to poverty stricken parents as many poor people are

No i have been one of the lucky though i have never owned a new car

In a Human World where many grow poorer for every new millionaire

I may not be a high achiever but i am not burdened by care

My worst day it is not a bad day i enjoy a good laugh or two

I feel happy with what i have got and with what i have got i make do

Not one seen to be successful though this does not bother me at all

I do not have financial problems and my biggest worry is small

So many as me not as privileged in a World where poverty is on the rise

That i am one of the lucky is something i do realize.

There Was A Time

 There was a time when he was handsome athletic and tall

And standing beside him most males did seem small

A few young women loved him in his younger years

Nowadays married grandmothers and ageing old dear

He does not have any children or a wife

And it has been awhile since he has had a partner in his life

In his late seventies time has become his foe

He is not the man he was decades ago

He is one who has known of a far better day

The hair on his balding head is silver grey

Time ages the strongest and fittest only true to say

This is how it is life works in this way

No longer quite handsome he looks aged and in his life's Fall

There is truth in the saying that time takes care of all.

No She Has Not Died

 No she has not died she has just gone away

And the visual memories are with us today

Of her beautiful face and the beautiful smile

Of a beautiful person free of conceit or guile

Kind in her ways suich a beautiful soul

In the ways of good example she played a leading role

Any one in need of help she never turned down

She is missed by the poor on her side of the town

No she is not dead though from the neighbourhood she has gone

In all who did know her she is living on

People like her live on no she did not die

To say she is dead is to broadcast a lie

No she has not died though some say she has had her last drive

In all who knew and loved her she is alive.

Owned By The Few

 The majority of the material wealth is owned by the few

And this is not saying anything that is new

And sadly the gap between the wealthy and poor is widening by the day

In a fair Human World it would not be this way

The wealthy and famous many do admire

And of singing their praises never seem to tire

The impressionable people in those they celebrate

The narcissistic and arrogant admired does help to create

Though losing is a thing that anyone does not choose

For a few to win big many do have to lose

There are more losers than winners in the World every day

Humanity it always has worked in this way

And as for the admiring masses in life their desire

Is just to be like one day those they do admire.

A Terminal Thing

 We read of and hear of people with terminal illnesses every day

That death in time from them is not far away

And though news of their illnesses sadness with it does bring

Life in itself is a terminal thing

There is truth in the old song and truth does not lie

With the title of  'the longer you live the sooner you will die'

A certainty of life as sure as night follows day

That mortality is for all living creatures as well as for humans only true to say

One who has a terminal illness is near her or his life's end

But all life is terminal why otherwise pretend

Some people die as children and in their lives prime

And eventually everyone runs out of time

The longest lived human life in time is not a long span

On average a few years more for a woman than it is for a man.

Perhaps I Will Never

 Perhaps i will never see Claraghatlea again

Or go for a walk in the wind that brings rain

In the rushy fields to where the waterways meet

In the green countryside near the Town of  Millstreet

It was my yearn for adventure that brought me far south

Of the fields of the badger and waterways of the brown trout

Today i would be a stranger to many in Duhallow's Millstreet Town

On old streets i often did walk up and down

In this far southern coastal place of echidna, koala and kangaroo

And white long billed corella and yellow tailed black cockatoo

Far south in distance eighteen thousand kilometres or more

From the rocky cliffs that border Hibernia's shore

In the countryside in view of Clara where mine was a known face

Today there to many i would be a stranger in my first homeplace

Yet despite my years of absence the memories with me remain

Of faces and places i may not see again

I may never more hear the low of a cow

On a Summer evening by old River Finnow

But the memories remain with me of that place far away

Where i first did look on the bright lamp of day.

I Am Of The Place

 I am of the place where the waterways meet

In the green countryside by the Town of Millstreet

It was there i first looked on the bright lamp of day

Though my life's journey from there has taken me far away

Where i grew to love Nature as a young boy

And learning of her ways remains a source of joy

And every day of her to learn something new

Her lessons as ever are not of the few

We learn as we live only true for to say

And we never stop learning life works on this way

Where i was born and raised in i did not choose to stay

And Nature on my life will have the last say

And like many migrants i may end my life span

Far south of the place where i grew to a man.

Of Love's What Might Have Been

 The Seasons to his life do come and do go

And he only has memories of the long ago

Of a young dancer he had a crush on but to ask her to dance was too shy

So many years since then in time has gone by

On dance night in the local hall  he could not bring himself  for to ask her to dance

In love and in life one should not shun their chance

Then in his early twenties close to his life's prime

In memory we only can go back in time

Dance and dance teaching a huge part of her life

And one lucky man in her does have a beautiful wife

He had a love crush on her many years ago

Going back in time some five decades or so

As one of the town's less confident and shy young men

He lacked the courage for to ask her out for a dance then

And all he does have are the memories today

Of love's what might have been in a town far away.

Those Who Can Forgive

 They are blessed by a rare gift those who can forgive

In a World where many nurse their grudges for as long as they live

Not mentally healthy a grudge in the mind

Those who nurse their grudges to the act of forgiveness seem blind

A grudge can lead to revenge in a serious crime

And many due to a grudge do serve prison time

The act of forgiveness the mind of hatred does set free

And confines the grudge they did harbour to history

A grudge in the mind anyone does not need

Those who can forgive they are lucky indeed

For harbouring hatred is not good for the soul

And on one's mental health can take it's toll

Many who harbour a grudge are in prison today

For their crime of revenge this the price they do pay

That forgiveness is a gift of the lucky few

Is not saying anything in any way that is new.

Singing Again

 In June on a Winter night in the wind and the rain

The tiny frogs in the backyard are singing again

In their breeding Season before and during rain them one does often hear

That they do like wet weather is quite obviously clear

By day even when singing they are hard to see

Amphibious ventriloquists is what they seem to be

You search where you think the frog is but it is not there

And you feel confused to realize that the singer is elsewhere

They hide in roof guttering or under loose bark of a tree

Most species of Australian frogs in general are of an elusive family

Their ventriloquism perhaps is an anti  predator thing

The frog is not where you think it does sing

Perhaps their love of wet weather goes some way to explain

Why the tiny frogs always sing in the rain.

In June In Duhallow

 In the leafy groves of Duhallow from here far away

The wildbirds are chirping and singing today

And hidden in the rushes in a field near where Blackwater flow

The shy male pheasant flaps his wings and crow

Whilst nearby one of the females he has mated with in the high grass sits on her nest

With the eggs that will bear the pheasants of the future warm beneath her breast

And with the sun on their dark wings chirping as they fly

The swallows are chasing flying insects in the sky

The voice of the cuckoo so pleasant to hear

In June in Duhallow quite a nice time of year

Where i grew to love Nature as a young boy

And memories do live on as a source of joy

And live as mental images in my memory

I thought i had left Duhallow but Duhallow has not left me

The sweet scent of grass freshly mowed for silage or hay

In the scent glands of the nostrils a lifetime does stay

The fields green and looking resplendent in their Nature's flowers

That have come to bloom in recent summer showers

In June in Duhallow from here far away

In the afternoon of a bright sunny day.

On Nature

A beauty to view for we do not need to pay

That even in city and town parks people see every day 

That lives in mental images of the memory

Yet there is far more to Nature than the eyes does see

To sketch and to write of her the artists and writers she inspire

The green goddess billions of people admire

Our wonderment of her it only does grow

And so much about her to learn of and know

She helps Mother Earth to grow the food for our survival we need

And she helps to create a beautiful flower from a tiny seed

Of her we do learn something new every day

And her lessons are many in truth one can say

In the beauty she creates joy to many she does bring

And those who do love her feel happy her praises to sing.

Those Who Have Never Known Of Sorrow

 Those who have never known of sorrow to say the least rare

As few do go through life without some cross to bear

So many of loss have sad stories to tell

And grief it is a sentence in Earthly Hell 

The words of a wise woman i recall as a boy

She said life is a mixture of sorrow and joy

Where the deceased are she forever does lay

But her words of wisdom are with me today

You have had your bad times as many do

But some have known of far worse days than you

Grief it has reduced the bravest to tears

And it is something in the mind that can linger for years

And though sad memories a lifetime does stay

That time is a great healer only true to say.

In The Nineteen Fifties

 In the nineteen fifties the Millstreet Athletic Club had many a great athlete 

And against Ireland's best they regularly did compete

And were seldom found to be wanting when put to the test

Of the athletic clubs in Duhallow then millstreet were the best

The great Neenan brothers Willie and John D

In track and cross country raced to many a victory

A race to commemorate Willie Neenan in Millstreet annually

The man in athletics who created his own history

Back then Joe Buckley of Cloghoula in the green strip of Millstreet with the best held his own

As quite a good cross country runner he became well known

Where some of the deceased of the Millstreet Parish are at peace he does lay

He was quite a famous sportsman on his day

John Kelleher the pole vaulter good memories of him will remain

One like him may not be seen in Duhallow again

Quite jubilant in victory and gracious in defeat

At pole vaulting back then always the one to beat

Many times Irish high jump champion Cockhill's Pat O Shea

Old timers do still talk about him today

He set Irish records on his leaps to renown

One famed and admired far from Millstreet Town

The great four hundred metres track sprinter Paddy Byrne who who often done Millstreet Proud

A humble man he leaves it to others for to sing his praises loud

For many years a priest in the U S of  A

He is living in his Hometown of Millstreet today

Back in the nineteen fifties when i was a boy

The successes of their athletes to the people of Millstreet Town and Parish was a source for joy

But time that ages all life did become their foe

And going back the years this now seems long ago.

It Is True

 It is true that by twenty five years he had outlived his long term wife

And that he was in his mid nineties and had lived a long life

And that he had a good innings and his time had come to die

But the ageist are people who believe their own lie

For when their sort grow old and their best days are in the long gone

It is a known fact they too wish to live on

A truism about the ageist that is often told

That they too are ageing and they will grow old

And they will not like it when young ageists of them will say

They no longer count since they have had their day

It is true that his grandchildren are no longer young

But surely his praises do deserve to be sung

Since to many people he was a good friend

And he battled for life right up to his end.

Far From The Old Streets

 Far from the old streets he often walked up and down

He is ageing today in a far away town

In his late sixties time has become his foe

He only has memories of the long ago

Of the town where he began his journey in life

And the young woman he loved there who became another man's wife

He was young and he yearned for places far away

But she loved her hometown and there she did stay

She loved him and he promised her after a short while he would return to her again

She waited for him for a few years but her wait was in vain

The wanderlust in him to her he did not come back

His life journey took him down another track

Though he has made love to many women he does not have children or partner or wife

And he only did have one true love in his life.

Of Nature

Of Nature so little i can claim of to know

Though my wonderment of her it only does grow 

She is quite amazing as most would agree

And her beauty is something we do not pay to see

She is in a class of her own in truth one can say

And of her we do learn something new every day

The one who helps Mother Earth to create a beautiful flower

Remains as she always was the World's number one super power

To those who love her Worldwide she is a source for joy

Yet in her angry moods some of the beauty she creates she destroy

Death and destruction caused by her Worldwide

And great human buildings by her have been destroyed

But when she is at peace her beauty is on display

She is quite amazing in truth one can say.

On The Passing Of Bridie Murphy

Bridie Murphy nee Fitzpatrick in Ballydaly Lower lived for most of her long life

A good mother to her children and to the late Donnacha a good wife 

Sad to learn of the passing of one generous and kind

To loyalty to her family and friends Bridie stayed true to the ties that bind

Sad for all in Ballydaly who will not see her again

One they will fondly remember for as long as life's gift they retain

In life she led by good example in truth one of her can say

Ballydaly much the poorer for her leaving it today

For a better World to live in one who helped to plant the seed

And of more like Bridie Murphy the Human World of is in need

One who never sought the limelight yet to many was a good friend

Sad to learn that the life's journey for her has come to an end

Her heart that beat with kindness is forever more still

In St Mary's Cemetery in Millstreet Town in view of Cashman's Hill.

Masked Lapwing

 Quite territorial in a noisy way

And at nesting time quite aggressive of them one can say 

In their breeding Season they do not even treat their own kind as a friend

And their eggs and their young they do vigorously defend

With a would be nocturnal predator to their ground nest near

Their shrill like loud calls at night one often hear

With dark on head and neck long yellow wattles and unders of white

They shriek at human, beast or bird who venture near their nest site

In their nest just a simple scrape on the bare ground

The female lay four olive blotched eggs that blend in well with the landscape around

No other species of bird to them look or act the same

And spur winged plover for them is another often used name

In town parks and in the countryside in their range they are a common sight

And in their breeding Season in late Winter and Spring one often hear them at night.

Money Of No Use To Him

 Money of no use to him where he now lay

One of the town's wealthy people he was buried today

In his early nineties many times a great grandfather survived by his forty year old fourth wife

With some of the money from his estate she will have a good life

His many descendants and his three surviving wives

With the money in his will can enjoy good lives

On the material success ladder he was one who climbed far

And was one admired by many as most wealthy people are

Death who claims all lives brought his life to an end

In life to any poor person  he was was not a friend

Of time in the World he had a long stay

And of money it is only of use to the living in truth one can say

The town's poorest deceased person equal to him today

Death is the equalizer it works in this way

On The Passing Of Kathleen Crowley

Such sad news out of Millstreet in Duhallow of late

Kathleen Crowley nee Collins a woman we ought to celebrate

Has sadly surrendered her great gift of life

To her family a good mother and to the late Tadgh Crowley a good wife

Sad to learn her life 's journey  for her has come to an end

In her community work in Millstreet over the years she made many a friend

Though an octogenarian and she had outlived her better years

In Millstreet and Duhallow her passing from life would not have gone without tears

News of the passing from life of a good person never good news of to read

It was by good example in her life she did lead

In June in the prime of Summer in the green countryside

In her family home in Drishanebeg near Millstreet Town she died

For everyone in life a last night and day 

In St Mary's Cemetery in Millstreet in view of Cashman's Hill her last remains lay

The last breath of life from her mortal body may have gone

But in her family and her many friends good memories of her will live on.

On John Shaw Neilson

 Born in Penola in South Australia he spent many years in Victoria in Nhill

As a poet he became famous for his lyrical skill

He earned his living mostly as a labourer and worked hard for his pay

And in life nothing easy ever came his way

John Shaw Neilson is one rated by literary critics as one worthy of note

Today his name lives on as a major poet

Neilson's Cottage in Nhill Town is a memorial to honour his fame

Though poor in his lifetime he became a great literary name

In the year of nineteen forty two on the twelfth day of May

John Shaw Neilson the great poet from life passed away

He became a literary great despite hardship and poverty

The greatest ever poet of Victoria's Wimmera Mallee 

He only spent two years in school as a boy

Yet his poems to many are a source for joy

His beautiful poetry has stood the time test

As a poet many literary critics rate Neilson as one of Australia's best

So many great poems live on in his name

He is in Australia's poetry hall of fame

The love that bloomed in him in his poetry with others he did share

The John Shaw Neilsons of the World to say the least are rare.

By The Hills Far Away

 The sweet scent of freshly mowed grass for silage or hay

Wafting in the breeze of a pleasant June day

A weather temperature high of a sunny twenty three degrees

And the birds chirp and sing on the bushes and trees

White butterflies flitting above the fields their beauty on display

And contented cattle on the lush grass chewing their cuds do lay

Such beauty that artists and writers inspire

Of singing Nature's praises it does seem hard to tire

In the sunlit shallow pools of the meandering stream

The basking brown trout in the sunshine their pink spotted skins gleam

The beauty in Nature one does not pay to see

It is true that the best things in life they are free

Brought to full bloom by recent Summer showers

The fields look resplendent in their Nature's flowers

Nature at her finest in June to be seen 

The counntryside looking so scenic and green

With the sun on their dark wings chirping as they fly

The swallows chasing flying insects in the sky

In the afternoon of a sunny June day

In the green countryside by the hills far away.

That All things Can Be Relative

 That all things can be relative would you not agree

The one great to you may not be so to me

Through different eyes difference we do see

If we all agreed on everything how boring we would be

The one with many friends is not without a foe

Old wisdom that remains relevant from the long ago

There are always a few who in their words put down

The most admired people on their side of the town

Fame and wealth can have it's downside one does come to realize

The one we do not know we do not criticize 

Yet most for themselves who wish to make a name

Admire the people of  money and fame

Most things can be relative is how it seems to be

The one who is great to you may not be so to me.

The Room For Self Betterment

 The room for self betterment is in us all

And any form of self improvement is never too small

What you do for others says more about you

Than the things for yourself  that you choose to do

Though there are some with this that would disagree

And say that our number one priority in life should always be the me

That Moses unwritten Commandment is of thy own self only take care

Of the needs of the self they are only aware

And sad to think their sort in the World are not rare

It is something that should not be hard to believe

That those willing to give can expect to receive

That there is room for self improvement in all of us happens to be true

And for those who are kind to others some credit is due.

The Young Allansford Rose

 Her wavy hair to her shoulders is chestnut brown

The blue eyed young Rose of Allansford Town

In her early twenties near her physical prime

Her sort the inspiration of  song, story and rhyme

So friendly and down to earth her sort nowadays rare

Of her great natural beauty she seems unaware

She even greets strangers with a friendly good day

Quite a likeable young person in every way

It looks like she may live her future elsewhere

For soon she hopes to see some of the big World out there

For one of her age without ties and carefree

There is so much out there in the big World to see

She even looks beautiful in casual clothes

The brown haired and blue eyed young Allansford Rose.

It Is True About Comparison

 On himself he is one who is rather tough

Since he believes he is one who is not good enough

As some of his contemporaries he fails to impress

The people who judge others on this thing known as success

And mostly for the lack of it is how it seems to be

of the judgments of the judgmental we will never be free

Many of the boys he went to school with have college degrees

Some of them are teachers and bankers and doctors and professors of universities

Compared to them he feels that in life he has not done well at all

But then the words of a wise person are worthy of recall

That success as is said can be a relative thing

And not everyone the praises of social climbers are known for to sing

In mid life he retains the low sense of self esteem that he had as a boy

It is true about comparison it is the thief of joy.

The Unsung

The people who perform good deeds every day

Unkind things of others they never do say

To help those in need of helping they regularly go out of their way

Without asking for recognition or any other form of pay

They are not the sort of people many choose to admire

Or to be like them feel any desire

To the hungry and homeless some joy they help to bring

Yet their praises you never will hear many sing

For helping to make life better for those doing it tough a huge part they do play

Yet for them you will never hear a hooray

For the good of humanity they sow the good seed

And of far more of their sort the Human World is in need

For this thing known as success and the admiration of others they never compete

And they are never seen where the big egos meet

Their names never appear on a memorial wall

Yet one can say of their achievements that they are far from small

The people who remain among the unsung

Some of them are old and some of them are young

They lead in good example on their side of the town

And their purpose in life is to help the financially down

On Nature

 Though her secrets from human kind she hides away

Of Nature we learn something new every day

Her beauty unrivalled and so much about her remains to be known

And she is one who does have ways of her own

The beauty she creates to view a source for joy

Yet in her angry moods some of the beauty she creates she destroy

She reduces great buildings to rubble and leaves death and destruction in her wake

She has killed people in their thousands and caused financial heartbreak

Yet the one who has in her such destructive power

Is also the one who can create a beautiful flower

She helps Mother Earth to grow the food for our survival we need

To Nature and Mother Earth us humans owe our very existence indeed

Nature's wonders are many and her secrets not few

And every day of her we learn something new.

On Sharks

 The shark who kills and eat a human swimmer not guilty of murder in any way

Any life form it can kill to eat to it is just prey

Yet most humans treat a shark who kills a person as a murderer and wishes on it ill

And in their boats search for it and hunt it for to kill

A shark like all ocean and land predators must kill for to eat

And human flesh to it  is just ordinary meat

More people are murdered at night by other people in an unlit street or a park

Than that are taken in the ocean and eaten  by a shark

Those who believe that a shark has a conscience believe their own lie

But it is true that those who do not swim in the ocean in the jaws of a shark will not die

Sharks like all other predators must kill to survive

Some people who have swum in deep waters where sharks were today are not alive

Sharks are ocean predators big, ferocious and strong

And they do not have a sense of right or wrong.

Just One Of The Many

The National eight hundred metres champion at the age of thirty three

He is not the man that he once used to be 

His moment of glory fifty years ago

Time that ages everyone has become his foe

He only has memories of his glorious past

The legs moving slowly that used to run fast

When he was hailed as a hero of the town

Back in the days when his hair was light brown

Time slows the best of them seems true to say

The town has a young champion athlete today

One of the forgotten as many aged heroes are

Not even spoken of in the local public bar

Without children or partner living on his own

Just one of the many that fame has outgrown.

Those With Love Of Self In Them

Those with love of self in them have love for to share

And of the needs of others are always aware

They perform a good deed or two every day

And to help others often go out of their way

Narcissism is not love of self it is self love gone wrong

And to any form of love does not belong

Narcissistic people with their selves are obsessed

And believe everyone with them should feel impressed

But people of true self love different from narcissists in every way

For a better World to live in their part they do play

The Human World of more of their kind is in need

Since every day of good Karma they sow the good seed

Those with love of self in them are enlightened of mind

And quite generous and caring and compassionate and kind.

A June Day In Duhallow

 A June day in Duhallow in the dawning grey

The songbirds are singing to greet the new day

The sweet scent of freshly mowed grass wafting in the breeze

And the masses of white blossoms look resplendent on the hawthorn trees

The fields at their finest in their Nature's flowers

That have come to bloom in recent Summer showers

The voice of the cuckoo so pleasant to hear

June in Duhallow is a nice time of year

The weather looks setteled the sun rising red

A sign that a warm day may be ahead

The swallows are twittering as they do fly

On pursuit of flying insects high in the sky

The contented cattle chewing their cuds do lay

On nutritious young grass gaining weight by the day.

That Self Praise Is No Praise

That self praise is no praise remains as ever true

You should leave it to others to praise you if praise is your due

Those into the promotion of the self are no longer rare

This is something perhaps of you would be aware

So many arrogant and narcissistic people Worldwide who have made for themselves a name

So few of the humble ever know of fame

In the twenty first century self promotion is an in thing

Their own praises so many do love to sing

So many who like to tell others of how great they are

Of how on the social ladder they have climbed far

One must listen to thunder as the wise one does say

Sadly the humble are becoming endangered it does seem this way

It is always the same when the big egos meet

For attention with others they love to compete.

What We Do To Our Earth Mother

What we do to our Earth Mother to our own selves we do

For a better future for future generations of people it is up to me and you

And to every other human being in the World today

For our abuse of the Earth future generations will have to pay

What greedy people for financial greed are doing to Mother Earth is to all of our shame

The children of the future they will have us to blame

For extreme weather and famines the legacy of our human greed

For the poverty of the children of the future it is we who sow the seed

When we brag of our huiman achievements what have we to brag about

The Polar ice caps quickly melting in the far north and in the far south

Due to carbon dioxide emissions that we have helped to create

This is one human achievement we ought not to celebrate

Many species of wildlife facing extinction to think of such a sad thing

In time we may not be distant from our first silent Spring.

It Is The Literary Critics

I have never laid claim to the title of poet

I leave it to the literary critics to those they see worthy of poetic note

Since they are the people paid to criticize

To the poetic social rank their criticisims give rise

It is the literary critics who write for newspapers Worldwide

The worth of any writer of any genre decide

In poetry the rhymers the literary critics ignore

The non rhymers they place to the poetic fore

Though no shortage of rhymers in any village or city or town

In the twenty first century no hope for any rhymer of poetic renown

Few rhymers nowadays ever short listed for a major literary prize

Rhyme has had it's innings as most would realize

In all forms of literature change is happening fast

And in poetry rhyme has become a thing of the past

The well paid literary critics have helped in the demise of rhyme

As a form of poetry of another time.

Olive Backed Orioles

Known to be birds of the wooded countryside

Migratory in their ways they travel far and wide

Olive backed orioles for them their common name

To look and act different to others their only claim to bird fame

Red bills and eyes and green on back and head

And dark stripes on their grey breasts and wings of them it can be said

That their difference from others birds makes them interesting since they do not reside in one place all year

And their quite beautiful song always a joy to hear

On bulky cup like nest high on branch of tree

That from the ground is never hard for anyone for to see

Two to four eggs with dark spots through the grey

The duller coloured females in their breeding Season lay

Distinctive in their appearance and their beautiful song

Once seen and once heard you will never again get them wrong.

The Equalizer

 Those who generously give in other ways do receive

This is something that is not that hard to believe

What goes around comes around as some do say

It can be said Karma does work on this way

The wealthy like the paupers eventually does die

That death is the equalizer is not a lie

A poor one in many ways the known billionaire

Who lives for self only and with others never share

Your money and property only of use to you when you are alive

Of personal value to you in your death does not survive

Only earthworms live where the dead does lay

That death is the equalizer life works in this way

She or he a good person to the poor who are a good friend

In life we sow our own Karma why otherwise pretend.

Happy Dave

Happy Dave is smiling though for him not a good day

In the factory he has worked in he has drawn his final pay

The company gone into liquidation no longer allowed to trade

But any disappointment about this by Dave is not displayed

With a wife and two young daughters to support of a good weekly income he is in need

But despite now being unemployed  he seems not the least bit worried indeed

If he feels disappointed of it he does not show a trace

He always does seem happy a big smile on his face

All of his retrenched workmates today are looking sad

The closure of the factory has hit their feelings bad

Dave the only one of them who manages a smile

He says things will get better though tough times may last for a while

Happy Dave is smiling though better days he has had

He is one of those rare people who refuses to look sad.

A Memory From The Nineteen Fifties

The National Bard of Scotland his is an enduring fame

In his memorable poems, songs and ballads he made for himself a name

He became Worldwide famous even in his short life span

It can be said of Robert Burns he was an amazing man

I remember as a schoolboy at a horse fair in Millstreet Town

When not yet in my teen years with hair of darkish brown

An old Irish traveller sang Afton water as on his accordion he did play

A memory that with me until death will stay

A grey haired singing traveller his voice melodious and clear

For a twelve years of age boy was a joy to hear

From the pen of Robert Burns from all of those years ago

That today remains with me though time has become my foe

The poems and songs of  Burns have outlived the fading popularity of rhyme

They remain as popular as ever and have stood the test of time

The author of Auld Lang Syne the New Year all time favourite song

Burns may be Scotland's National Bard but to all of humanity his poems and songs belong

At a horse fair in the Duhallow Town of Millstreet in view of Clara's Hill

An old Irish Traveller sung Afton Water the memory with me still

From the late nineteen fifties when i was a boy

Such memories last a lifetime they have their source in joy.

It Has To Be A Two Way Thing

Love that is quickest to bloom can be the fastest to die

Though on some instances this has been proven a lie

Still loves that last a lifetime remain in the few

And this is not saying anything that is new

Since he has been forsaken by his love Kate

In the local pub young Jim not seen of late

He does not feel in the mood for barroom cheer

He sits on the couch at home drinking a beer

The woman he thought was the love of his life

And that he hoped one day would become his wife

Left him for another and reduced him to tears

The love ache may well linger in him for years

A few months ago she brought their love affair to an end

Love that can be joyful can also be mentally painful why otherwise pretend

It is obvious that he loved her far more than she loved him

The ache of lost love mentally painful to Jim

Time is the healer as the wise one does say

And Jim he will meet one who loves him one day

The praises of love so many do sing

But true love it has to be a two way thing.

Little Else More

One who will never be to the literary fore

Writing rhymes i just love doing and little else more

The rhymes that come to me in notebook i write down

Just for the love of doing it not for any literary renown

Though my worth as a rhymer i have reason to doubt

Never any shortage of subject material for to write rhymes about

Rhymers like all people run out of time

But they never do seem for to run out of rhyme

Not endangered of extinction on any sort of a way

No shortage of rhymers in the literary World of today

Rhyme was seen as a form of poetry of the past

But in literature as in most things changes do happen fast

Rhymers nowadays never win a major literary prize

Literary critics do not see them worthy of  to criticize.

Crimson Rosellas

Unrivalled for their beauty of them one can say

These parrots i see often though not every day

Blue fringes on wings and mostly red, dark patches through red on the back, blue cheeks and long blue tail

Once seen and once heard to recognize again them you will not fail

The female lay white eggs in cavity high on old tree 

For parrots they do raise a large family

In avaries they are not hard birds to tame

Crimson rosellas they are known of by name

Less territorial than most birds are of them true to say

Blossoms, fruits and seeds their main food of the day

In forests they are seen every day of the year

And their soft chirping songs are quite pleasant to hear

Them for their great beauty one can only admire

And of singing their praises it does seem hard to tire.

A Truism

 A truism that does seem hard to understand

A legal document gives proof you own your own piece of land

But how can we own to what we do belong

On our thinking on land ownership we have it wrong

The land you claim as yours as yours will not stay

To a similar earth you will return to one day

Or whether we are buried to decay or cremated to ashes do burn

In some form or other to the earth we return

And since in death anymore of it you are not in need

Of the property you once claimed to own someone else has the deed

The property that is yours as yours will only stay

Until the Reaper of lives on your life has the say

On our thinking on land ownership we have it all wrong

For how can we own to what we do belong.